The mornings were thick with frost and the air smelled of snow. Every day Edith found the effort to talk harder. The walnut tree in the yard was losing its leaves just as she was losing her words. They fell from her one by one.

She had to do her household chores, to listen to her father gloating. Even her friends seemed to take delight in Demetrius’ absence.

The women were gathered at the miller’s house when the first snow fell. Edith stopped her work and looked out of the window at the sky. She didn’t realise she was crying.

‘I told you so. It’s your grandmother’s doing that you believe those fairy stories,’ Lena said. ‘But no golden prince is coming to save you from your promise. Perhaps he makes a habit of wooing young women.’

Edith knew she no longer possessed enough words to quarrel with her friend. They were buried inside her, lying under the root of her tongue. The ill-advised oath was going to seal her fate. She thought of leaving the village but who in the town would employ a village girl? And what if Demetrius returned and found her gone?

She couldn’t sleep. When her father was in bed she would wander round the house, haunted by a vision of Demetrius lying dead in a crevasse, his violin case by his side, his raggle-taggle dog gone. How did she know?

‘Some people see what others can’t,’ her grandmother had told her. ‘You are one of those.’

One night Edith seemed to see her grandmother’s ghost sitting by the kitchen fire, rocking back and forth.

‘Where is he?’ she wordlessly asked the ghost.

‘Dead,’ crackled the fire. ‘The violin by his side and your gold coin in his hand.’

When the first snow covered the village in its velvet blanket, Edith was silent. She had no more words in her to whisper against her teeth. Overnight her hair turned white. Speechless, she held the weight of his loss in her soul.

Chapter Eight

The Wedding Gown

The cabinet maker let out a cry when he saw her. Genuinely frightened, his hands shook as he poured himself a glass of plum brandy.

‘What have you done?’ he said. Edith didn’t reply. ‘If you think this will stop the marriage, remember – you gave your word on your mother’s bible.’ Emboldened by the brandy, he shouted at her, banging his fist on the table. ‘Tell me – what have you done?’

Still Edith said nothing. There being no mirror for her to gaze in, it didn’t matter if her hair was black or white though she took some pleasure in the look of horror on her father’s face.

‘Speak,’ he shouted.